The National has a way of getting a song stuck deeper and deeper into my head. I had this one in my head as my wife went into labor two weeks ago. These words rattling about in my head:
I won’t fuck us over, I’m Mr. November.
I’m Mr. November, I won’t fuck us over.
I wish I believed in fate.
I wish I didn’t sleep so late.
I used to be carried in the arms of cheerleaders…